


Yours, Draco

by FeelsForBreakfast



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Agony, M/M, Post-War, letter writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:41:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5220077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelsForBreakfast/pseuds/FeelsForBreakfast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All that's left are 15 letters, and then those are gone too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yours, Draco

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Yours, Draco. (TRADUCCIÓN)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14331447) by [IlianaJG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IlianaJG/pseuds/IlianaJG)



> Big thanks to alpha-exodus my Partner In Angst for giving this a speedy and helpful beta !  
> This started out as an exercise for my queer lit class and then it turned into a 3k long mess ! Idk ! I'm not responsible for my actions !

Potter,

Even if some horrible chain of events ever allows you to read this, I expect that by then I will have been kissed by another. By that I mean I will be dead. Dementors make terrible lovers, you know. See? I’m capable of humor, there’s another thing you never knew about me.

I digress. I’m not writing this to convince you of anything positive about myself. I think, realistically, we crossed that bridge years ago. I’m rambling, I’m sorry. It’s occurring to me that I have so much to say to you, but no way to say it.

Do you ever wonder if things could have been different between us? I expect not, you were always so busy saving the whole damn world. That’s not why I’m writing. I’m not sure why I’m writing. I just feel very alone. I think somehow that you would understand that.

Best,  
Draco Malfoy

x

Potter,

I hope you are well. Maybe you’re not. If I were actually sending these letters then maybe you would write back and tell me. Probably not, I don’t think I’m entitled to that sort of information. To be fair, if I were sending you these letters I probably wouldn’t tell you anything. Maybe if we were talking in person I could ask you and I’d be able to tell by your face. Severus used to say you were terrible at occlumency. At least there’s something in this world I’m better at than you. I bet that would make you mad, wouldn’t it? I bet you hated that for once you were shite at something. You are despicable, you make my chest tight.

Anyway. I figure before I die, I should say thank you for saving my life. Of course, it was a stupid futile gesture and maybe fiendfyre would have been a less gruesome way to die than the Dementor’s kiss. I think both have their own special kind of theatrics, both very dramatic, very tragic. Neither are very public, but I think a ‘kiss of death’ is quite romantic. At least this way I’ll get to say goodbye to my mother. She’s furious that she gets to outlive the rest of us, but that’s what you get for saving the chosen one I guess, the dignity of living in disgrace.

Best,  
Draco Malfoy

x

Potter,

Shame about Ginevra, I really thought that was going to work out for you. She seemed smitten, you seemed too stupid to tell a friendly tree from a woman. Is it really true you cheated? Seems like an un-saviory thing to do, but I’m sure you’re all torn up after the war and looking for love and affection and whatever. Pansy said she thought it was a bloke, which would just be delicious. I can’t really blame you, we all have our vices.

Did Weasley ever tell you about the time he made out with Blaise Zabini? I expect he really wouldn’t have, you two don’t seem like that kind of mates. He might not remember, I think all parties involved felt quite terribly about it. I almost wish I was sending this, I’d love to see Weasley’s face once it all came out. Well, suffice to say it was fifth year and Weasley shouldn’t drink at Ravenclaw parties if he’s going to let himself go like that. Shame you lot never came to the Slytherin parties, and doubly shameful that they petered out so much once everyone got so terribly involved in politics.

Anyway, I’ll try not to gloat too much more about you and your failed relationship, though it is a little gratifying. The girl Weasley was always rather horrible, I’m glad you’re free of that. Go find yourself a nice boy to settle down with, Potter. Isn’t that funny, I’m making fun of you because you’re gay. I can’t believe I missed out on this opportunity for all seven years of our lovely friendship.

Hypocritically,  
Draco Malfoy

x

Potter,

I’m sad today, I bet you’d find great mirth in that. Or maybe you’d curse me! Wasn’t that a great thing to do when I was crying. What fun. I don’t think I want to die. I don’t think I want to live. I would quite like to be free, both from the law and everything else.

Every time I get angry at you and the world I realize that you might understand why I’m so angry. I wonder if you ever wanted to be free too. You were just a kid, I wonder if anyone ever let you be that? I was so jealous at eleven because I wanted to do something impressive too. I wanted to save the world and you did it and you won the house cup and father used to tell me I just had to be patient and I’d get mine too. I did not get mine, but I’m sure I don’t have to explain that to you. Sometimes, I’m not sure you even got yours.

I’m a little worried about you. I know the Prophet really doesn’t do much to try and get your good side, but those pictures of you stumbling home were not your best look.

I feel like no matter what truths I tell you I’m still lying. I don’t think I know how to tell the truth to myself, much less you.

Best,  
Draco Malfoy

x

Potter,

What if I called you Harry? I think it would make you mad and for that reason I’m tempted to do so. I bet you’re wondering why I’m writing to you instead of anyone else. Ha! Or you would be, if you were receiving these letters. I think that’s why I’m doing it, because I know I’ll never send them, not even if I’m tempted. I bet you’d read them all out loud to your little band of revolutionaries and laugh.

My death approaches quickly. What a strange thing to know. It’s almost calming, knowing I can arrange all my things and say all my goodbyes. Pansy is completely distraught over the fact that they won’t let her visit the manor, and is being so obtuse about it that I think she might wear them down. She’s written me fifteen perfumed letters this week. I think she’s spiraling. Her parents want to have her committed and frankly I think that might be good for her. I’d ask you to take care of her, but that would be ridiculous on many levels. Blaise has left the country, but we fell out before the war so I’m not expecting much. “Where you’ll make your greatest friends” my arse. We’re all a fucking disaster. I’m sure the Gryffindors wouldn’t do things like this, I’m sure you all hold hands and sing songs and apologize to each other when you fuck up.

This letter writing exercise is calming, I’m not sure why. I have a few theories. One of them has to do with the fact that our mutual dislike has been one of the few constants in my life. Congratulations Potter, you’re one of my longest relationships.

Eternally Yours in Hatred,  
Draco Malfoy

x

Harry,

Did you like that? I think its funny. Do you think I’m funny? I always did, but public opinion was rather fickle. No one seemed to think my dementor impression was funny, and honestly I’m not sure that one was in good taste. I don’t regret it, but it’s a bit sour considering the current circumstances.

I don’t like your new haircut. It’s foul. I don’t know if you’re trying to be a new person or whatever, but you never should have cut your hair off. It was beautiful. I wanted to touch it. Not that your ego needs to know. Whatever. Tell anyone I told you that and I’ll kill you. As if you’ll ever know.

I should stop writing before I make up something really stupid.

Best,  
Draco Malfoy

x

Harry,

Mother has taken to weeping, so I’m hiding in my room. I want to blame you somehow, but I’m not sure how that would even work. ‘How dare you save her’ really seems wrong. ‘How dare this happen’ seems better. I understand that justice is being served, but it seems so incredibly bitter that it had to be served to us.

I’m going to tell you the truth, and the truth is that I wanted it all to end and I didn’t want anyone dead and now I’m the one who’s going to die. I think there’s a difference between hating muggles and wanting them dead, and I don’t think I ever wanted anyone to die. I am not absolved.

I think the thing I feel most guilty about is Katie Bell. You got tangled up in that, too. When I thought she was really going to die I almost turned myself in. Truly almost marched up to the headmaster’s office to ask for help. I wonder what would have happened if I had, if I could have been saved. Any what-ifs I contemplate still seem to end in death. Mine, others’, yours. My life never seemed too fragile, but looking back I don’t know how I made it out alive. To die now is a bit anti-climactic, isn’t it?

Ephemerally,  
Draco Malfoy

x

Harry I’m drunk. Harry. Your name is a stupid as you are. I like writing it, it flows nicely on the quill. I feel like I always contradict myself.

What’s your drink of choice? I bet you like something stupid and manly like firewhiskey. You strike me as a lightweight, which I think is hysterical. I’m a lightweight, so I can’t talk. I wish I knew you better, I feel like I’m working from caricature and strange memories. When you tried to kill me sixth year you looked horrified and before you killed me you looked like maybe you cared. I should have said something that wasn’t angry, I don’t know why I didn’t tell you I was sad because I was ripping into so many small pieces. I had a dream once where you held my body as I bled out and I couldn’t decide if it was a nightmare or not. I haven’t told anyone that.

Drunk,  
Draco Malfoy

x

Potter,

I didn’t even send that last letter, and yet I still manage to feel horrible about it. When I titled this letter Potter it felt really dramatic and angry but now it just looks stupid. I’m going to try again.

x

Harry,

On the topic of someone else’s disaster of a life, you really must stop allowing yourself to get plastered all over the front of the Prophet. While plastered. Ha. You need a publicist. Maybe a therapist. I hope to Merlin you have a therapist, I can’t imagine that PTSD is pretty.

It is rather amusing to me that your life is almost as much of a disaster as mine. What a riot. I’m going to die, so I still win.

I wonder if they’d let you visit the manor if you asked. I feel like that’s the sort of privilege they’d afford to you. They have it under guard now, I think if they weren’t so afraid of the house they’d have sent us all to Azkaban already. They’re so skittish, I suspect they’re under the impression that as soon as the Malfoys leave the Manor there will be some horrible House of Usher event and the whole thing will collapse into the ground. I almost hope it does.

It’s a bit cruel I think, to make us help them take our home apart, but it’s not like there’s much sacred left in here. Mother obliterated all the nice dishware yesterday, because the ministry people told her they planned on removing it. I tried to stop her, but she’d gotten the damn idea in her head and I didn’t know any way to talk her out of it, so we stood in the kitchens and smashed plates until the whole floor was covered in shards of delicate china. It doesn’t really matter, it’s not like anyone stands to inherit them anyone. Maybe Andromeda would have liked them? Didn’t Nymphadora have a son? Theodore? Not that he’d want death eater dishware. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

Best,  
Draco Malfoy

x

Harry,

You really need better taste in men. It’s enough to make me want to come back from the grave and haunt you. Next time you get within five feet of anything that hideous I’ll rattle some chains around until he leaves you alone. Isn’t your celebrity status good for a proper conquest? I’d guess that maybe ugly is just your type, but the girls you dated were at least nice to look at. You’re making it too easy to make fun of you.

How do Granger and Weasley feel about this? I can’t imagine they’re pleased with your antics. Perhaps they’re upset with you, that would be entertaining. Sad though. You do look a bit lost without them flanking you like little guard dogs.

I wonder if you wonder about me like I wonder about you. Probably not, but then again I never could read your mind. Maybe you think about me instead when you’re taking home ugly blokes. I apologize, that was gauche.

Some part of me hopes you’ll feel it when I die. I hope it feels like a string you’ve been holding onto finally snapping and bouncing back to sting your fingers. I don’t even care if you know what the feeling is or why you feel that way, I just want you to be aware that something has passed. I can’t fathom that you wouldn’t feel it.

In Life and Otherwise,  
Draco Malfoy

x

Harry,

I feel like I’ve been getting maudlin lately. I can’t help it, I’m going to die. I think if I were to have one excuse for dramatics this would really be it. I want to tell you things. I want to write my whole life story for you and make you tell me that I’m not a bad person. Which is absurd, both because you would never say that to me, and because I have been a very bad person. Maybe you would tell me I’m one of the good guys, and we’d both know you were lying to make me feel better.

I hope you’re well. I really do. I’m quite worried for you, you really don’t seem to be taking any of this very well. I’m sure things will turn around for you, but I’m a bit perturbed that I’m not going to be around to complain about it.

This is horrible, Harry. I’m going to die and it’s horrible.

Condemned,  
Draco Malfoy

x

Harry,

I feel like I’m talking to you, I feel like we’re friends. We aren’t friends and tomorrow I’m going to die. I feel like you’ll miss me. You will not miss me. I will miss you. I can’t tell you how I feel about you because this feeling is horrible. It feels like being splinched. This is an inadequate description. I think I’m starting to panic. I wanted more than this, and I don’t know what I wanted but I know it was more.

I can’t tell if I regret everything because it fell apart or because I know it was bad. I can’t separate what I’m feeling from fear. I suppose if I don’t have a choice, death will be rather peaceful. Maybe it will be chaos.

Terrified,  
Draco Malfoy

x

Harry,

I can’t sleep, I pretended to use the loo because I can’t sit in the drawing room with mother and father anymore. The air is still and we’ve run out of small talk. There is nothing to talk about when you’re on the lip of death.

It’s so late and I’m so tired but I don’t want to say goodbye to the moon yet. When I was little, mother used to say that my ancestors were looking down on me, since all the Blacks are named after the stars. I’m sure you’re familiar, Sirius was your Godfather. He’s always easy to find up there. Did you know that Draco is circumpolar? You probably don’t, you never paid attention in Astronomy. That means that it never sets, at least if you’re in the Northern Hemisphere. What I’m saying is that I would appreciate it if you went out and found me, but you’re under no obligation to.

Don’t worry about it, actually. It’s just a bunch of stars.

Best,  
Draco Malfoy

x

Harry,

I guess this is goodbye. I feel sick. I feel sad. I want to do a million stupid things. I don’t know what to do with these letters. I tried to dispose of them but it feels wrong now. Maybe I’ll just send them to you, it won’t matter how I felt once I’m dead. Maybe I’ll just leave them in the desk drawer and hope they die with me.

Please take care of yourself, or I’ll haunt you, I swear to Merlin I’ll haunt you. I’m sorry I poured myself out to you and you didn’t know, but I’m glad you don’t. You don’t even know half of it Harry, I promise. I promise you don’t know half of it and neither does anyone else because it would ruin me if you knew, if you knew for sure. I’m sure you’ve guessed, you seem stupid but you always manage to figure it out eventually.

Terribly, terribly yours in life and otherwise,  
Draco

x

Addressed To:  
Harry J. Potter  
12 Grimmauld Place  
Islington, London

The following items were found addressed to you during the ministry searches and clearing of the manor home formerly owned by the Malfoy family. The contents of this package include 15 letters written by the late Draco Malfoy. They have been processed for dark magic and various and sundry curses and deemed harmless. Please address any complaints to the Ministry of Magic Justice Department.

Sincerely,

Frank Weberley

x

Harry squinted first at the letter in his hand and then at the bundle of papers that had come wrapped along with it. Harry shooed away the ministry owl that had brought them, stumbling back indoors and wrapping his tatty bathrobe closer around his shoulders. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with letters from Draco Malfoy, especially a late one. He couldn’t imagine what they’d say, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to.

He placed them on his countertop to be dealt with later, pouring himself a glass of water and setting about trying to clean the pile of dishes he’d been ignoring for weeks. The letters sat there for the rest of the day, stacked and obvious even as Harry tried to avoid them.

It wasn’t until later, after he’d made his way back to his liquor cabinet, that he picked them up and sat in his favorite chair and weighed them in his hands. He could see the curl of Draco’s poncy, tight hand on cream colored parchment, and he wanted more than anything to tear them into tiny, tiny pieces. He wanted to tear any memory of Draco into tiny tiny pieces, until they were too small to touch him.

He ripped the first one slowly and without truly thinking about it, something cathartic in the destruction. He pointed his wand towards the old fireplace, flicking the logs to life with an angrily cast spell. The wood crackled low in the dark house, the curtains pulled shut so no one could peer in.

Harry used to his wand to fling the paper into the fire, watching each letter catch alight. Maybe it was calming to watch all of the words dissolve, and maybe it hurt like hell. Harry didn’t know the difference.

Charred slips of paper settled on the floor around the fireplace and Harry flicked them with his wand, meaning to send them into the fire with the rest. He paused, drawing them up so they floated up around his face like tiny, smoky moths.

He read them slowly, even their brief snippets reading in Draco’s high, clipped voice.

need better taste in  
nd haunt you.

 

else’s disaster of a life, you really  
over the front of the Prophet. While plastered.  
apist. I hope to Merlin you have a therapist, I can’t 

 

Mother obliter  
planned on rem  
and I didn’t know 

 

                              ill not miss me. I will miss yo            
               ible. It feels like being splinch  
  I’m starting to panic. I wanted  
ow it w

 

my life. Congra  
Eternally Yours in  
Draco Malfoy

 

Harry banished the scraps to the fire with a shiver, hoping the words wouldn’t stick even as he felt them whirl slowly around his head. He felt, as he had many times that week, a sensation he wasn’t familiar with and had yet to place. It was something bright and almost sharp, like the ghost of an old painful memory, like a string snapping and bouncing back to sting his fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated <3  
> hmu @ drarrytrash on tumblr if u wanna hang :)


End file.
